


The First Step

by Novalinx



Series: Choices [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novalinx/pseuds/Novalinx
Summary: Draco Malfoy realizes he does not want to be a Death Eater. Circumstances force him to reach out to people he normally wouldn't. With their help, he leaves England behind and ends up in Washington D.C.





	1. The Realization

**Author's Note:**

> Written for NaNoWriMo 2016!
> 
> To line up the canons, Harry Potter has been pushed forward ten years. Fifth year, where this story begins, takes place during 2005-2006.
> 
> NCIS is set at the end of season 3, leading into season 4.
> 
> Many thanks to pyramidoftears and nurse05 for betaing!

Draco Malfoy sat sheltered on his bed, the green curtains keeping him separate from the rest of the room. He was pleased to be out of sight, knowing that his father would be less than pleased to see his current position – huddled under his blanket, a spare pillow clutched to his chest. Even in the dark, he knew his eyes were open too wide, his mouth set in a fierce, almost painful, frown. He found himself rocking slightly and had to force himself to stop.

School had only been in session for a few weeks, and already his fifth year was not going as planned. Watching the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Dolores Umbridge snipe against Potter and his group was a riot. However, her unfortunate teaching methods meant that he wasn't learning anything. Class after class of silently reading the text books. No practical demonstrations, no answers for questions. Any and all questions were given a slightly mocking reply of “Look in the book, dear. The answers are there.”

How could he be expected to do well on his OWLS if a professor refused to teach the material? They had already had four sub-par professors! Well, perhaps not Professor Lupin, but that man was definitely biased against Slytherins.

Draco snorted to himself. How is that a surprise? He thought. Almost all Hogwarts professors are.

No one was stepping in to stop Umbridge. It was as if the other teachers had simply washed their hands of the course and what happened in there. At least Professor Snape arranged for private tutoring within Slytherin. Draco just wasn't sure if it would be enough. 

While the school situation was worrying, what had him more concerned was the activities of the Dark Lord. Amelia Brontly was marked over the summer – only a day or two after her sixteenth birthday.

She had shown it to the children of other Death Eaters, Draco included, as an attempt to make them jealous. Draco had made the appropriate noises, but in the privacy of his own mind he wasn't jealous.

He was terrified.

He would be sixteen at the end of the school year and he already knew his father wanted him marked as soon as possible.

It was easier before... well. It was easier before the Dark Lord came back. When all Draco had to do was not embarrass the family name and lord his wealth and breeding over those who were inferior.

Now, though. Now he's seen both his father and godfather clutch at their forearms, pain written across their faces. He thinks there have been times that his father returned to the manor covered in his own blood, baring scars from the curses the Dark Lord had hurled at him.

The meager proof he had was in the hushed conversations that stopped when he entered a room, the addition of potions to his father's breakfast, even the way the house elves seemed more solicitous towards the older Malfoy. His father was very strict with the house elves; they knew their places and rarely stepped out of them. But those mornings when Lucius walked a little slower or leaned on his cane a little harder – those were the mornings the house elves would be even quicker and quieter. 

His father and Uncle Severus were among the Dark Lord's most faithful followers. Both had continued to search for ways to bring him back, long after others had given up. If the Dark Lord could torture them, what would he do to their children?

At the moment, Amelia is full of pride and eager to gloat about being allowed to attend Death Eater meetings. She has kept many of the older Slytherins enthralled with her stories of the few raids she was allowed to take part in. The younger students stare after her, a mixture of awe and fear in their eyes.

But Draco knows it will not last. Death Eaters get missions. Right now, Amelia's mission is to make being a Death Eater sound like the greatest thing since chocolate cake. All she has to do is convince a handful of students that the Dark Lord wants to help them. 

She'll be questioned over Christmas break. They'll demand answers she may not be able to give. She'll receive the Dark Lord's disappointed look. A look Draco has been oh so fortunate to see, despite not being a Death Eater.

When they return in the new year, Amelia will start campaigning for converts more aggressively. She'll want at least five students to agree to get the mark once school has ended.

She won't bother with him. It's already assumed that he'll take the mark and his place by the Dark Lord's side, just as his father and grandfather had.

He just isn't sure that's what he wants.

*****

 

Despite his house being the most hated in the school, it's amazing what they can get away with. For all the eyes that follow them through the hallways and classrooms, as long as there were no outward moves toward violence or hexes, no one cared.

Within the house, Draco has a unique position. His father's money and connection to the Dark Lord means he's accorded far more respect than he has probably ever deserved. His relationship with Professor Snape doesn't hurt either. 

As long as Draco is smart and doesn't do anything to draw attention to himself, he can do as he pleases.

Sometimes, it is difficult to not bait Potter. Sometimes, he has to in order to not bring attention to himself.

Everyone expects them to bicker and he's always played to an audience.

This week is going according to plan. He's had his spat with Potter, made a rude comment to Granger, and insulted the Weasel's family. His homework is done, with no detentions or loss of points so far. He can hide in the library researching.

At his table, he was surrounded by old newspapers. Once he had realized he wasn't sure if he wanted to follow the Dark Lord, he realized he needed more information. Information that he probably would not get from anyone who already wore the mark. He had briefly considered talking to those who opposed the Dark Lord, but quickly decided their suspicions meant he was unlikely to get what he wanted.

Nor could he get the information from The Prophet. All the newspapers around him were from either the Continent or the Americas. 

Pulling out a piece of parchment, he idly checked the nib on his quill as he thought about what he wanted to look for. Having a list would make his research a little easier. He already knew the beliefs of the Death Eaters: Muggles bad, Purebloods good, all hail Lord Voldemort, the Ministry is stupid, Potter is stupid, etc. He knew that the Dark Lord's goal was to rule over the Wizarding World and to enforce all those wonderful beliefs.

He needed to look at names, he jotted that down quickly, dates and locations too. The Death Eaters went on raids, but what was the goal of those raids? They didn't need money or supplies. Was it only to make people afraid? How would that help in taking over the world?

Holding his quill up, Draco realized that beyond that, he didn't know what to look for. Perhaps, he decided, it would be better to just look.

A firm nod and he put his quill aside and picked up the oldest newspaper from the stack. This was from the seventies and published in France. A quiet word of thanks to his mother that it was a language he understood, he began to read.

Several hours later, he had read maybe half the newspapers he had collected. He had found the information he needed. He just had to decide what to do with it. A quick check told him he had a little less than an hour until supper. 

He bundled up the newspapers and put away his parchment and quill. Another quick look to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, and he headed towards Madam Pince's desk.

On his way there, he passed by the table used by Potter and his group. They were furiously whispering to each other, but stopped completely and stared at him as he passed.

Unobserved, he rolled his eyes and continued on his way. Once he turned at a bookshelf, he could hear them talking again.

At Madam Pince's desk, a polite request that she hold onto his newspaper collection so he could continue his research was met with a tight smile.

The librarian was hardly a nice woman; she preferred her books over just about everything else. Draco had learned early on that all she wanted was for students to be polite, quiet, and not damage anything in her domain. He did his best to follow those rules. Because of that, they got along as well as they possibly could.

 

*****

It was a week or so before Draco could return to his research. Madam Pince passed him his papers and he went off to his table.

Again, he passed Potter's table. This time, Potter had his head down on the table while Granger hissed at the Weasel. She stopped abruptly and glared at him as he passed.

As he arranged the table to his specification, he pondered why. Then he realized that not only were Quidditch try-outs this week for Gryffindor, he hadn't done anything remotely nasty towards the trio since the week before. Oh well, he'll have to fix that at breakfast.

But now, he thought, rubbing his hands together, more research.

He reached for the newspaper on the top, one from Germany. As he pulled it towards him, a bit of parchment fluttered out and landed on the table. Curious, he pulled it towards him.

The note was written by Madam Pince, a sight not many were able to see; but Draco had been on the woman's good side for years.

Try Special Editions of The Prophet from 1979-1982.

No signature, but the P was quite distinct. 

He smiled slightly and put the note in his pocket. Looking for those editions will be for another day. For now, he had a stack of German newspapers to attempt to translate.

 

*****

In the end, he spent a month researching the Dark Lord and Death Eaters in various newspapers from around the world.

It did not look good. It looked nothing like the glorious stories that his father told him at bedtime.

With the tip from Madam Pince, he was able to piece together a better picture of what it was like living through those times. The special editions contained more information, and often the only information, on the Dark Lord and his activities.

So much blood, death, and needless destruction. For what purpose? Gaining converts should not be done so violently, it just scares away anyone with potential.

He was deep in thought as he sat in the stands to watch the first Quidditch game of the year, Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff.

Around him Slytherins booed and hissed both teams. None of them wanted Hufflepuff to win, but Hufflepuff would be an easier team for them to beat than Ravenclaw. To be fair, the Slytherins took turns berated the two teams.

Draco had enough piece of mind to follow Pansy's lead on cheering, but otherwise, he was too absorbed in his thoughts.

The game was over before Draco realized it. It wasn't until they were walking back to the dungeons that he learned Ravenclaw won. Luckily, his friends were busy tearing apart their offense and insulting their seeker to pay any attention to Draco's lack of attention.

Supper was a loud affair, the Hufflepuffs were cheerfully teasing the Ravenclaws, everyone else joined in teasing the Hufflepuffs.

It was one of the few times that the school felt as warm and welcoming as it claimed to.

*****

 

That night, hidden within his bed, Draco pulled out his research. He had found that while Death Eaters were not required to kill someone in order to take the mark; they were encouraged to do some heavy damage, either to a muggle or muggle-born.

According to the list of names that he had put together, several pureblood families had been wiped out by the so-called pro-pureblood factions during the first war.

He still could not figure out why. The families didn't have money or heirlooms that would have been useful. All they had was a single vote in the Wizengamot. Taking out that vote could theoretically turn the tides of all future laws. However, buying the families off, threatening them, or blackmailing them could be acceptable and achieve the same result.

The more he read and learned, the more he realized he did not want to be a Death Eater. He did not want to follow a man who took pleasure in torturing his followers and murdering innocent people. 

But how could Draco avoid it? His father was a Death Eater. His mother did as she was told. There were no other close relatives-

He froze.

There was one person that he could go to, although the response may not be in his favor. 

His mother's cousin.

Sirius Black.


	2. Drafting an Impossible Letter

The problem, Draco quickly realized, with writing a letter to his cousin was that they had never met.

At least, he didn't think they had. Perhaps when he was a baby, before the Dark Lord was “killed” by Potter and Sirius was sent to Azkaban.

Pursing his lips in thought, he stared down at the blank parchment. That could be a bit of a bump in the road. Despite Sirius going to prison for supposedly supporting the Dark Lord, Draco's parents had never had a kind word to say about the man.

When the reminisced about their Hogwarts days, all he usually heard about the man was that he was in Gryffindor and that Great Aunt Walburga almost had a fit and needed calming potions when she heard the news. 

Oh, there were tales about what Sirius and his friends did to Uncle Severus, but Draco's parents were a few years older and probably didn't know even half of what happened. Not that Draco knew either, but there was pain in Severus' eyes whenever Sirius or the other Marauders were mentioned. 

With a deep sigh, Draco decided to just be honest and tell Sirius the truth about not wanting to follow the Dark Lord, and that he needed help to avoid the future everyone around him assumed would happen.

Dipping the quill into ink, he began to write.

*****

 

In the end, he wrote four letters before he finished a copy that was worded to the best of his ability and legible.

A time check showed he had half an hour before curfew, which was plenty of time to go up to the Owlery and get a school owl to deliver his mail. 

Trudging up towards the tower, he pondered the realities of living in an underground dormitory. It was quiet and peaceful once you got use to it, but no sunshine came through the windows unless it was diluted by the lake. Instead of birds, they saw fishes and merpeople. They were the farthest from the entrance, kitchen, library, and Great Hall. It was as if Hogwarts itself was doing its best to forget about Slytherin House.

He shook his head once he was in the tower and glanced about for an owl. Several fluttered their wings at him, clearly ready to go, but he knew he had to be picky in his choice. He couldn't use Melba, the owl he normally sent letters home with. Everyone in Slytherin knew he preferred Melba and if she was gone, they would wonder why. One of them might mention it to their parents, and their parents might mention it to his parents, and who does he have to write to beyond his parents?

Lies, secrets, and subterfuge – the Slytherin way.

In a corner, he noticed Potter's owl eying him warily. Deciding to stay away from her, he moved towards a tawny owl a few feet away from Melba. 

Carefully petting the owl, he let it learn his scent. 

“Can you deliver a letter for me?” He asked quietly, although he was sure he was alone.

The owl chirruped happily and held out it's foot.

“Thank you,” Draco smiled and turned the name tag that was attached to a cuff on the bird's foot. “Ah,” he added. “Thank you Chaser.” He fumbled for a second to attach his letter, then looked about the Owlery for any sign of another student. Satisfied that he was truly alone, he turned back to Chaser.

“Please take this to Lord Sirius Black. His home may be under a Fidelius Charm, but I'm sure you can find him. I do not need a reply.” 

Draco carefully lifted the bird towards the window.

“Happy flying,” 

Chaser flapped his wings and soared out the window. Draco watched until he could no longer see him. Then he turned and headed back towards the dungeons. There was nothing to do now but wait.

*****

 

In Grimmauld Place, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin sat in the lounge. The wireless was playing softly, a fire was crackling away, and both were reading. 

When the large grandfather clock struck 10, Sirius closed his book and stood to stretch.

“Time for bed?” Remus asked.

“I think this is what it means to be old. Staying up late has lost all appeal.” Sirius grumped at him.

“There was a saying I heard; it's not the years, it's the mileage.”

“That makes it worse!” the other man complained. “Ugh, I don't want to see your ugly mug 'til tomorrow. Night, Moony.”

“Night, Padfoot,” Remus called after him. He finished the chapter in his book then headed up to bed himself.

Neither noticed the tawny owl that arrived a few hours later. Kreacher sneered at the owl, but let it in and provided food and water, and then the house elf headed to his own bed.

*****

 

The next morning Sirius stumbled down to the kitchen and plopped into a chair, barely keeping his head from hitting the table and falling asleep again. Remus followed him with a laugh and set out making a pot of tea.

“Went to bed early and still couldn't sleep Padfoot?”

“Shut up,” moaned the man at the table.

“Have some tea, you'll feel better.”

“No I won't.”

“You haven't even tried it yet.”

Sirius responded with a raspberry as he reached for his cuppa. His hands paused halfway to the cup.

“Uh, Moony?”

“Yes?” Remus responded, though he didn't turn from where he was preparing a simple breakfast.

“When did we get an owl?”

That caused Remus to turn around, “We don't have an ow-.” He paused to blink. “Oh.”

“It's a Hogwarts owl, but Harry would have sent Hedwig and the Headmaster would have come through the floo.”

“I agree,” Remus nodded towards the letter, “Perhaps you should open that?”

As soon as Sirius pulled the letter off of the owl's leg, it gave a twitter and launched itself out the window.

“I guess they don't want a response.”

“Guess not,” Sirius popped open the plain wax seal and unrolled the letter.

“Who's it from?”

“Cousin Draco,” Sirius sneered.

“Really? What does he want?” Remus sat at the table, pushing a plate of food in front of each of them.

Sirius held up a hand as he finished reading the letter, then snorted and flung it away from him.

“Well?” Remus prompted.

“He,” another sneer, “wants help to get away from the Dark Lord and his father's influence.”

“Oh, are you going to help him?”

“No!” Sirius exploded and pushed away from the table. “I'm not! It's a trap of some sort. The Malfoy's are after something and they're using their son to get it!”

“But Sirius,” Remus protested, pulling the letter to him and reading over it. “What if he really wants out?”

A derisive snort was his answer. “I sincerely doubt that the person Harry calls the Slytherin Prince wants out of anything.”

“Sirius-” Remus started.

“No.” The Black Lord turned towards him, standing tall and proud. “It is my decision. I do not believe that Draco Malfoy is anything other than a sycophant for his father and the Dark Lord. Even if that wasn't the only issue, I refuse to help someone who has been an utter prat to my godson since the two met. Thank you for breakfast, but I'm going to draft my reply and that will be the end of it.”

He left the kitchen. Remus nervously licked his lips and looked back at the letter. He unconsciously crumpled the edges of the parchment and wondered what to do. If Draco really wanted out and Sirius rebuffed him, what other options did the boy have? A glance towards the door and Remus folded the letter and shoved it in his pocket. He didn't know what to do with it, but he suspected it would come in handy some day.

*****

 

In his office, Sirius penned a response to his dear younger cousin. He did not mince words and spent no time proofreading it before signing with a flourish and a quick touch of his wand to be sure his answer was reinforced by not only his magic, but the Black family magic.

Once he rolled the letter and sealed it with wax, he settled into his chair to ponder the best method of delivery.

He wasn't completely heartless, despite what Remus thought. So an owl to deliver the letter in the morning was out. Anyone who knew of Draco's mission to ingratiate himself into Sirius' life would know in an instant that the answer was no. 

He may not like his cousin, but he didn't want to make life harder for him.

No, perhaps delivery by house elf was the best way to go.

Sitting up, he called for Kreacher.

The elf appeared with a loud pop. “What is nasty master wanting?”

Taking a minute to take a breath and roll his eyes, Sirius stared at his house elf. Kreacher was actually looking better than when he had first moved in. Like most house elves, working kept him healthy. 

“I need you to deliver this letter to Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts. Please do so when he is alone.”

“Little Master Malfoy?” Kreacher's ears perked up.

A sharp nod was his answer. “Deliver the letter and return here. I think we should have goose for supper.”

“Yes, nasty master.” Kreacher took the letter and popped out of the office.

*****

 

It was during Draco's study period that Kreacher found him in the library. Silently popping next to the young wizard, he carefully pushed the scroll forward until he attracted the human's attention.

“Yes?” Draco asked quietly.

“Nasty master tells Kreacher to deliver this to Little Master Malfoy.”

Draco's fingers trembled as he pulled the scroll towards him. “Well done, Kreacher.”

“Nasty master was very angry.”

Draco gulped and whispered, “Then this probably does not go in my favor.”

“Kreacher would prefer Little Master Malfoy.”

Popping open the wax seal, Draco mumbled to himself, “We don't always get what we want.”

A quiet sniff and Kreacher was gone, leaving Draco to read the letter alone.

_Draco,_  
_While your letter may pull at the heartstrings of others, I feel no such compulsion. For reasons I do not deem to share with you, I have distanced myself from the “traditional” Black tendencies. Part of that distance means that I do not run at the beck and call of a child half my age who understands little of the world. In that regard, as of this day, November 6, 2005, I, Lord Sirius Arcturus Black do declare that no member of the Black family will aid you in your goals._  
_On a personal note, I have to say that your gambit to wheedle into my good graces is several years too late. Perhaps your lord should have thought of that before setting you to your task._

_Lord Sirius Arcturus Black_

Draco carefully folded the letter and put it in his bag. He blinked his eyes rapidly, fighting back tears.

What was he going to do now?


	3. New Roads

Soldiering on, Draco gave himself the rest of the day to grieve and mope about the fact that the Lord of his mother's family denied his request for aid. The man might has well have cast him out of the family. Without the help from the Black family, he would have to figure some other way out of his unwilling conscription to the Death Eaters.

The easiest part for now would be to remain at Hogwarts until he absolutely had to go home. With that thought in mind, he wrote a letter to his mother. Not only did he fill her in on school happenings, but he added that to better prepare for his OWLs, he would be staying at the school over Christmas break. A few more lines about how he wanted to do well and not be distracted and he knew his mother would back his decision to his father.

A quick trip to the Owlery, along with a snack for Chaser and Melba, and he sent his favorite owl to deliver his letter.

He managed to get to his seat in the greenhouses before Professor Sprout started her class. Both Pansy and Blaise shot him concerned looks for being so late; but he shrugged at them before pulling out his parchment and quill.

Quickly copying down the notes that appeared on the board, he only half listened as the professor went over the best ways to achieve xerophilic conditions in a greenhouse.

Tearing off a small piece of parchment, he jotted down half formed thoughts, being careful to only use abbreviations.

By the time class was over he had a short list of possible connections that he would have to think on further. He also had next to no idea what Professor Sprout had been talking about. 

Walking back towards the school, Pansy and Blaise settled in on either side of him, with Crabbe and Goyle following behind.

“Why were you so late, Draco?” Pansy asked curiously.

“Unlike some of you,” a pointed look over his shoulder, “I was in the library studying. Then I went up to the Owlery to send a letter to Mother.”

“OWLs are still months away,” Crabbe groaned.

Blaise shrugged his shoulders as they waited for a group of Ravenclaws to clear the entrance to the school. “Maybe, but it never hurts to be prepared. Are you staying over break, Draco?”

Draco nodded. “I'd like to, I even told Mother of my plans in the letter. I suppose I'll have to wait until she gets back to me to know if I can.”

Pansy made a disgusted noise as they turned down the hall towards the dungeons. “Stay over break? I'd rather eat supper with the Gryffindorks.”

“I'm sure they'd be delighted to have you,” Blaise teased then quickly danced out of her range as she lunged at him.

“Hey! No pinching!” he shrieked as he took off down the hallway.

Draco rolled his eyes but smiled fondly.

“Do you want us to stay with you?” Goyle asked quietly.

“No, Greg. You and Vince deserve to go home for break.”

“You're sure?” Vince asked, though he clearly did not want to stay.

The blond stopped walking and turned towards his friends. “I am sure. I appreciate you wanting to stay, but all I'm going to do is study in the library. Not terribly exciting.”

The other two boys shared a look before reluctantly nodding their agreement.

“If you change your mind, let us know.” Vince prodded.

“You'll be the first to know, I promise.”

Now with satisfied nods, the pair of boys led Draco towards the dungeons where they played a couple games of Exploding Snap before supper.

*****

 

It was a few days before Draco had any privacy to go over his list in more detail. By then he had a reply from his mother agreeing with his plans to stay at the school over the upcoming break. Satisfied that he would have a little more time to plan something, anything, he headed to the library.

Being a Sunday morning, the library was fairly empty; even Granger's normal table was bare of books and the inquisitive muggleborn.

The only people he saw besides Madam Pince were a couple seventh year Ravenclaws, already studying for their NEWTs.

He passed them all and settled at his usual table. Taking a few moments to set up his books and parchments to give the appearance of studying, he was soon satisfied with the illusion and pulled out the bit of parchment that had been burning a hole in his pocket since Herbology.

Keeping an old rough draft for a Transfiguration essay nearby, just in case he needed to cover his true activity, Draco took a look at his list.

 

SS  
AD  
MM  
AB  
G  
AT  
SM

It was not a long. 

Starting with SS, Draco considered the pros and cons of approaching his godfather. He had known Severus since he was small, had wonderful memories of learning how to brew simple potions and playing on the manor grounds. Severus may be a gruff and bitter man, but he had been a delight to young Draco.

The godparent oath that Severus had sworn meant he would do anything in his power to keep Draco safe. If something happened to his parents, Draco would go with Severus to live.

Draco could not think of an adult he trusted more than Severus Snape.

Unfortunately, Severus was a Death Eater, loyal to the Dark Lord. Even if he went to his godfather with his concerns about killing people, he would probably be told to grow up and stop being squeamish. He might be offered the chance to apprentice with Severus, which would keep the both of them out of actual raids.

It would not keep him from being marked.

No, going to his godfather was not an option. He quietly crossed the initials off his list.

Next was Albus Dumbledore: Headmaster of Hogwarts, Friend of Muggles and Creatures, and several other titles that Draco didn't really care about. Everything that went into Dumbledore's story implied that was a champion of those who needed help.

Draco certainly qualified.

But there was something about the Headmaster's eyes, the way they often flickered over the Slytherin table at meals... Calculating. Very similar to his father's eyes and something he had seen the few times he met the Dark Lord.

Albus Dumbledore had grand plans. The problem was that Draco didn't know what those plans were, nor could he guess at what his role own might be.

Look at Potter, supposedly the savior of the Wizarding World, sent to live with relatives he clearly hated. The clothes he wore on the train were old and ill fitting. The only time he looked like a proper wizard was the first few weeks of school. Then some mystery occurred, and he and his merry band went off to solve the problem.

No one believed them when they asked for help. The trio often solved their problems alone, facing detentions, injury, and death. They only received adulation after the fact – only for it all to be forgotten the next year and the cycle started again.

If Dumbledore could treat the Golden Boy of Hogwarts so poorly, how would he treat Draco?

Draco figured it could go one of two ways. The first is that Draco would be locked away from everyone he cared about and interrogated. Not that he knew much about the Dark Lord's plans, but that wouldn't stop the “Light” wizards from trying to find some obscure meaning in the little he did know.

If he was lucky, he would be permitted to return to the school, but most likely he would be forced to continue his education in an alternative location.

It would also get out that he had gone to Dumbledore. Returning to the school would mean being ostracized from his house and his friends. The word would get back to his father. No. That course would not end well for him.

The second way would involve Draco still taking the mark and perhaps spying for the Light side.

That would possibly be ok, maybe. Draco wasn't sure. At the war's end, he would still have a mark and only the word of an old man to keep him out of Azkaban.

No. Better not to risk it. A line of ink splashed through the headmaster's name.

Minerva McGonagall. She may be the Head of House for the Gryffindorks, but in most matters she was fair in her treatment of the entire school.

The biggest obstacle was that he didn't know her very well. She could either agree to help him and do everything in her power or go to the headmaster and follow his plans.

He thoughtfully tapped the feather against his lower lip. It could go either way, really. 

He drew a question mark next to her name and moved down the list.

Next was Amelia Bones. 

The problem with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was that he would have to convince her of his validity. If his own cousin, his own blood, wouldn't believe him, what were the chances that this woman would?

She, like Dumbledore, would require as much information as possible about his parents, the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters, his fellow Slytherins, everything. 

All the truth in the world wouldn't guarantee his freedom from Azkaban once she got what she wanted.

No. While she had the law on her side and should be required to help those wizards in need, there was no guarantee that she would be able to treat him fairly or honorably. The chance to have information on his parents and the Dark Lord might overshadow her concern for a teenage boy.

Another slash on the parchment.

Gringotts was next on his list. He shook his head. Why had he even included them? The Goblins were separate from wizards, but at the same time they had little interest in wizard politics as long as they made money. 

The only way they could even help him was if he managed to convince them to hire an underage wizard and let him live in the bank itself.

The impossibility of that almost made him laugh.

Another slash.

The next name was Andromeda Tonks, his mother's older sister.

Again, he wondered what prompted him to include her name. She might be sympathetic to his plight, but because of Sirius' edict, no Black could help him – which included his aunt.

A more hesitant slash joined the page.

He closed his eyes as a small part of him mourned the chance to meet and get to know his aunt.

The last name on the list was a bit of a gamble, but may be his best option.

Sabine Malfoy, the official head of the Malfoy family. 

Despite the belief of most of Great Britain, Lucius Malfoy was in no way the family head. It just happened that when Armand Malfoy came to these shores, no others followed him. As the years passed, the Malfoy's always managed to have one male heir. They managed to create the illusion that they were the only branch and the eldest living male was the Family Head.

Within Malfoy Manor, however, the truth was known. Each member of the family was taken to France and officially introduced to the family head. 

In fact, summer holidays were often spent with various cousins.

Lucius insisted on a bit of distance from Sabine, claiming there was no reason to confuse anyone about the family politics. Before now, Draco had never had a reason to object. Now though, Sabine may be his way out of the mess his father and grandfather had created.

Nodding to himself, he pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. He stared at it blankly before deciding to write something similar to what he sent Sirius, though he would include the reaction of his cousin as well as his thoughts on other allies. He could do no more than that.

If the response was less than what he wanted, then he would seek out Professor McGonagall. But only then.

When he left the library almost an hour later, he crumpled up his list of initials and tossed it in the trash. He never noticed that Madam Pince watched him leave, then pulled the wad out of the bin.


	4. Meet the Malfoys

Sabine Malfoy started her day the same as every other morning. A strong cup of coffee, two international newspapers, a national paper, and a small selection of pastries.

Official work for the family did not begin until all the pastries were eaten and her cup was empty. By that time, the newspapers were read and she was prepared to deal with the complexities of being the Malfoy Matriarch.

Not even halfway through her first pastry, she heard the distinctive sound of an owl at her window. Sighing, she waved her hand to let the bird in.

The tawny owl tiredly settled on the edge of her desk.

“Long flight, my friend?” Sabine asked while she scratched near the owl's ears.

A soft hoot was her reply.

“Well, let's see what was sent from,” she paused as she released the letter from the owl's leg, “Hogwarts?” she questioned when she saw Chaser's tag. “Well, that's unexpected. Is it urgent?” 

Chaser gave a mournful hoot

“Why don't you have a nice nap and I'll have Wixy bring you something to eat and some water, yes?”

She laughed as Chaser hopped over to the owl stand in the corner, a flutter of wings and the bird was asleep.

“Now, what can this be about?” she mumbled to herself before breaking the seal.

She read quietly before setting the letter down on her desk and reaching for her coffee. Finding her cup empty, she called for Wixy to refill it. 

Once her cup was filled with steaming hot coffee, she settled back in her chair to consider what to do.

The English Malfoys had been a pain in the backside of every Malfoy Head since the Norman Conquest, pretending to be the main branch of the family, ignoring decrees and meetings, and flaunting their disregard for propriety. It was something that each Head had to learn on their own.

The past few generations hadn't been a picnic, particularly not when Abraxas joined up with that idiot Voldemort. When he was defeated in the 80's, they all thought Lucius would see the light and return to the family fold.

It worked for a while, but once Voldemort made his grand re-entrance to the world the year prior, Lucius had become even more fanatical, ignoring all attempts at conversation.

It had reached the point that the only communication with that branch of the family happened when Lucius and his wife wanted to use one of the Malfoy vacation homes. Even that little connection had gone on a decline since their son started school.

To hear from their son, and see his concerns was... Well, it was disheartening and hopeful all at the same time. That fact the boy couldn't find anyone closer to help him was sad and painful. To see that he knew enough of his history to contact her in his time of need though, that made her proud.

She would do her best to help him, but first she had to figure out the best way. It would serve no purpose to get his hopes up.

Once the owl he sent woke up, she would send a letter letting him know she was looking into avenues to help him and would contact him again with more concrete plans. No reason to let the boy sweat while she researched.

A sharp nod and she reached for a quill to get to work.

*****

 

She sent the letter off with Chaser right after lunch. Mentally crossing her fingers, she hoped that Draco's steganography skills were up to par, otherwise deciphering her letter would be difficult.

It had occurred to her while writing that the boy's actions would not be seen well by his classmates. Especially as, though he didn't mention it, she was sure that some students had already taken the mark and were actively reporting on the others. Therefore, she sent him an old copy of the Malfoy Newsletter. With some creative alterations to get her message across, she was sure no outsider would think too much about it.

They had only met a few times and while the boy may be a snotty, spoiled brat, he wasn't stupid. He would figure it out. Even if he didn't crack the code, the presence of the newsletter would tip him off. They were only sent out four times a year.

Next on her agenda for helping Draco was to figure out where to send him. The Malfoys were a large family with connections everywhere, so the options were almost limitless. 

Tapping her fingernail on the desk she considered what she knew of the boy. For safety sake, staying in England or Europe was out. Voldemort may have more followers in England, but he had connections in Durmstrang and minor moles in various governments in the continent.

Better to send her little Malfoy abroad. But where?

She knew he was used to the finer things in life, most Malfoys were.

While there were cities he might enjoy in Africa or Asia, he would have to learn the local language. She could only assume he knew English and French, beyond that she wasn't sure. Better to stick with English speaking countries.

The Malfoy Manor in England was in Wiltshire, mostly rainy with a handful of snow days. He probably wouldn't appreciate Canada and its long winter. Australia would probably be too hot for him. 

She nodded firmly. Looks like she would try to settle him in the United States. 

But who to settle him with?

*****

 

It was a boring Tuesday morning at the NCIS offices in Washington D.C. The Major Case Response Team was without an active case. The four members were getting caught up on paperwork and all but one were dreading looking through cold case files.

Special Agent in Charge Jethro Gibbs was contemplating going on his third coffee run of the day when his Senior Field Agent's cell phone rang.

“DiNozzo,” the man answered distractedly as he signed a form. “Hm? Oh, yes, Hi. I'm fine, yourself?”

A moment later, Tony sat back and put his pen down on the desk. “Really? Huh, lemme check with my boss real quick.” He muted his phone and stared at it a second before turning to Gibbs. “Hey boss, it's some family lawyer that wants to meet with me, you mind if I take the afternoon off?”

Gibbs considered his agent thoughtfully, watching as the other two members of their team tried to subtly listen in.

“Your paperwork done?”

“Yep, just gotta sign a few things and turn it in.”

“Get 'em signed and get out of here. Let me know if you need more time.” Turning towards the other agents, “And since you two clearly have enough time to eavesdrop, we'll be going to the gym this afternoon.”

While Tony grinned at him and confirmed the time with his lawyer, the other two groaned.

Silence filled the bullpen as Tony finished his work, putting the papers in their respective boxes, he shut down his computer and began to pack up his things.

“Family lawyer, Tony?” Ziva asked, “I hope nothing is wrong with your father.”

“Wrong family, Zee-va,” Tony replied airily. “It's my mother's family lawyer. Gotta run,” he announced standing from his chair. “I'm meeting him at Lusardi's in about an hour. See you all tomorrow; have fun in the gym.”

A farewell wave and Tony was gone.

Gibbs had barely begun reading the next report when Tim started speaking.

“What do you think a lawyer wants with Tony?”

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Gibbs remained silent and let the two talk.

“Who knows? Perhaps he owes them money.” 

Tim snorted while he typed away at his keyboard. “Maybe they're issuing a cease and desist order.”

“Oh! Better!” Ziva sat up straight in her chair with excitement. “Perhaps it is to ensure that Tony does not have children, yes?”

“That's enough.” Gibbs stated, loud enough to be heard by them both. “Tony's business is his own. If you've enough time to gossip, we can go to the gym early and finish the day at the range.”

“Sorry Boss,” Tim stammered.

“We were only joking, no offense meant.” Ziva added.

“Not much fun when Tony can't defend himself.” A hard look from their boss put the end to their chatter.

But not the end to their thoughts. Even Gibbs was curious about what Tony's mother's family lawyer wanted, he was just smart enough to not say anything.


	5. Lawyers and Garlic

Lusardi's was a small Italian bistro several miles from the Navy Yard. It had no designated parking spots, so Tony had to drive around the block a few times before a space opened up. He pulled in and paid the meter, then set out for the bistro. 

It was crowded inside, with barely enough room between the tables for the servers to get through, but somehow they always managed without tripping over themselves or the guests. Tables were covered in traditional red and white checked tablecloths, though several were starting to show their age.

The smell of garlic permeated the air and Tony had to pause a moment to breath it in.

He reopened his eyes and glanced about the small space. There, at a corner table was a man that looked like a lawyer. Heading over towards the table, Tony held out a hand to shake and asked “Milton Prescott?”

“Yes, Mr. DiNozzo?” the man replied with a thick British accent while standing and taking Tony's hand.

“Yep.” Tony gestured to the chairs and the two sat. “Have you ordered yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“I appreciate that.” Tony opened a menu that had been sitting on the table. “Everything is good, so I can't recommend one thing over another. I suppose it depends on how much you want to smell like garlic?”

“I think just entering this place means you're going to smell of garlic.”

Tony peeked over the top of the menu and smirked. “You're probably right.”

They both placed their orders and talked about the weather and traffic in DC until their food arrived.

After taking a bite, Tony decided it was time to get to the point of the meeting.

“The food here is excellent, but really not worth the trip over from England. What can I do for you Mr. Prescott?”

The lawyer finished his mouthful then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “To be honest, I'm here as an intermediary.”

“I see,” murmured the agent. “And who sent you to see me?”

“Madame Sabine Malfoy.”

Tony blinked in surprise. “Really? Now what could she want with me?”

“That, I'm afraid, I don't know. She came to our office a couple weeks ago and requested contact information for you. When my secretary mentioned that I would be here on business, she asked me to reach out to you and deliver this letter.” He pulled a vellum envelope out of his inner breast pocket and handed it over to Tony. “I would suggest waiting until you are alone to read it. Not because I know what's in it, but because I don't know.”

Tony took the letter and turned it over in his hands. His name was inscribed elegantly on the front, the Malfoy wax seal holding the flap down. “No idea what has happened?”

“I suppose I could speculate,” the other man commented softly, “but I've learned over the years that few can predict what the Malfoys will do or say.”

A bright grin slid onto Tony's face. “It's a defining trait.” He tucked the letter away into his suit packet and picked up his fork. “Well, you've delivered your message and we still have lunch to finish. Have you had any interesting cases lately?”

Milton smiled as well and launched into a convoluted tale about land rights concerning the Paddington ancestral lands.

*****

 

Tony spent a nice lunch hour with the lawyer before they went their separate ways. Deciding to stop in at a grocery store before heading home meant that Tony didn't return to his apartment until a little after two in the afternoon.

Once his groceries were put away and he had changed out of his suit, he took a seat at his kitchen table and pulled out the envelope from Madame Malfoy.

Again, he turned the envelope about in his hands. “Stop being a coward,” he hissed to himself before popping the seal and pulling out a single sheet of parchment.

Putting aside the envelope, he opened the folded letter and a galleon fell out of the fold and landed on his table with a loud clunk. He ignored it.

_Dear Cousin Tony,_

__

_I realize this letter comes a bit out of the blue, but I have a family matter I need your advice on and possibly quite a bit of help with. The issue is very sensitive and I worry about the wrong people finding out.  
The galleon I've included is a portkey that will be activated with the phrase “family matters.” It will bring you to my hotel room here in DC. Please come whenever it is convenient for you. I will be here until the end of the week._

_Regards,  
Madame Sabine Malfoy_

*****

  

Tony picked up the galleon and rolled it between his fingers. A glance at the clock told him he still had plenty of time. He hesitated only briefly before pulling on his shoes, grabbing his wallet, keys, the letter, and heading out the door.

There was an out of the way apparition point half a block from his building. He could safely portkey from there without anyone being suspicious about him disappearing from his apartment. With his luck, it would be the one time his boss decided to swing by and check on him.

Once safely tucked away at the apparition point, Tony pulled out the galleon and whispered the activation words. A sharp tugging in his middle and he was standing in the lounge section of a hotel suite.

A few seconds to orient himself was all he needed before he met the eyes of the Malfoy Matriarch.

Sabine was an older woman, closing in on her sixth decade and expecting to live at least another six more. She had the traditional Malfoy white blonde hair, stylishly pulled back in a simple chignon. Her pale gray eyes sparkled behind an elegant pair of black frames. 

Her taste in clothing matched her taste in hair styles and jewelry. Her maroon sweater was slightly oversized and worn over a pair of expensive name brand jeans. The only jewelry she wore was the Malfoy family ring, a wedding ring, and a simple chain necklace.

Her feet were bare, perhaps her only concession to meeting with a family member.

“Tony!” she exclaimed happily, “It's so nice to see you again.” She moved towards him for a quick hug and a kiss. “Come, sit, do you want something to eat? Drink?”

“I'm fine, thanks Sabine,” Tony answered, settling on a sofa. “How have you been?”

“Oh,” Sabine rolled her eyes as she settled across from her younger cousin. “Sometimes I wonder why I agreed to take on the Family Headship.”

“Only sometimes?” teased Tony.

A quick wink. “Only sometimes.” Before either could continue, Sabine raised her wand and quickly cast several privacy wards. 

“So why the subterfuge? What's going on?” Tony asked before adding a couple wards of his own.

“You'll be annoyed with me, but first I want you to tell me what you know of the family.”

Tony blinked and leaned back in the sofa in thought. “Probably not as much as I should. I know the Headship became a sort of elected position because of a past Patriarch and a... goose?”

“A duck, actually.” Sabine nodded gravely. “In the fourth century we were still following the accepted tradition of the Headship going to the eldest son of the eldest son. Just our luck we got Cyril.” She sat up stiffly, looking for all the world as if she was preparing to testify in front of a court of her peers. “From the records, Cyril wasn't the worst choice for Patriarch. A strong wizard, maybe a little weak when it came to money-sense, but he had a strong family to support and help him.”

“So what happened?”

“The thing that happens to most of us,” she sighed. “He fell in love.”

“Love ruined the Patriarch of the Malfoy Family?”

“Ruined might be a bit of a stretch. He met a woman named Celeste, a highly talented muggleborn. They became quite inseparable. The details aren't recorded, but from journals of other ancestors, we have learned that Celeste was perhaps a bit too arrogant. She was smart, and talented, yes. But she was not perfect.”

“What did she do?” Tony leaned forward, watching Sabine closely.

“She began delving into the research to become an animagus. I still don't quite understand what went wrong. From all accounts, her research was sound. There were several animagi in the family she could have gone to for help.”

“Were she and Cyril married?”

“Hm?” Sabine looked up at him, drawn out of her thoughts. “Oh, yes. Married and expecting their first child. I believe there was a large party thrown when they announced.”

“Ah, Malfoys. Always unpredictable, but willing to party at the drop of a hat.”

“What can I say?” Sabine replied with a shrug. “We enjoy good food, good wine, and good company.”

“Celeste?” prompted the younger man.

“I think she grew overconfident in her abilities. She spent too little time on the mechanics and theory of the spell. Too much time on the...” she trailed off and waved her hand.

“Too much time on the thrill of the magic.” supplied Tony.

“Yes, that.” Sabine stood and strode over to the minifridge, pulling out two bottles of water. She did not speak again until she was resettled on her chair. “I don't know if you've done any research into the animagus spell?” Tony shook his head and she continued. “While not specifically written out, it's highly suggested by most that a wizard should spend a few hours each day meditating on their inner animal, if you will. This has been true since the spell was invented. The idea being that in a meditative state, your animagus form and your human form connect in a way that allows you to flow back and forth more easily.”

“I see,” Tony murmured slowly. “Sort of like connecting the dots or leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.”

“Yes,” agreed the Matriarch. “A way to find yourself again.”

“And Celeste skipped this part?”

“She must have. I suspect she thought the Pure-blood's were having her on. Trying to make things overly complicated so the muggleborns couldn't participate.” She twisted the cap off the bottle angrily and barely managed to not spill any down her front when she took a sip. “I apologize Tony, it just frustrates me so. The muggleborns think the Pure-blood's are out to get them. Unfortunately there are enough of them who do think that to make it a legitimate concern.”

“It's alright Sabine. Some things can't be fixed with a party.”

“If only,” she muttered to herself. “Celeste,” she began again, “at least listened to her healers and knew that any attempt at the spell after her fifth month would be less than ideal. I believe she pushed herself so she could attempt it during her fourth month. Biting her thumb at us, if you will.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully and sipped from his own bottle.

“She managed the spell, without telling Cyril what she was up to. He returned from a meeting with family to find a duck in his drawing room. A duck that couldn't change back.”

She nodded sadly at Tony's wide eyed look.

“There are volumes of books he's written about it. Everything he did to try and get her to turn back, all the people they went to see. It just wasn't going to happen. It wasn't just being stuck that was the problem. Theoretically, the spell would either wear off in time or a more powerful wizard could cast a _finite incantatem_. There are some spells used specifically to end the animagus spell, but I've heard they can be painful.

“No, the problem was that without the connection between her animagus self and her wizard self, Celeste slowly began to act more and more like a duck. She eventually flew out a window that was left open on accident. Cyril spent days tracking her down, eventually found where she was and discovered she had laid an egg.”

“Their child.”

“Yes. It broke Cyril, for lack of a better word. He had a small house built by the lake Celeste had settled at and stayed there year round, even when Celeste migrated. He began to ignore all matters of business and family, letting it fall to his brothers and sisters. After a year or so, the older Malfoys got together to decide what to do. I understand it took almost a month and several trips to a healer before the whole lot agreed to elect the Headship. The first elected Malfoy was Clarisse, Cyril's younger sister.”

“Quite the scandal,” Tony commented idly while he thought over the story.

“Yes. Do you know why I've told it to you?”

“Not entirely.” he answered slowly. “I'm thinking that something came up that is going to be difficult.”

“Yes,” she said sadly. “What do you know about the war in England?”


	6. Making Connections

“I don't see how they relate,” Tony said, eyeing Sabine warily.

“We didn't abandon Cyril, even if he was no longer the Patriarch. Until the day Celeste and he died, we had healers and curse breakers, and all sorts of other professionals in to check on them. The lake Celeste settled on is still there. Still on the grounds of the Malfoy Manoir. I look out and see it every morning. Cyril and Celeste were among the first buried in the family cemetery.”

Tony stared.

“The little duckling that Celeste hatched raised her own ducklings there, they continue to return every year. The point, Tony, is that we do not abandon family. No matter how difficult they may be.”

The two sat in silence for several long moments. Sabine glanced at the clock and sniffed.

“How about we order an early dinner and then continue?”

“Sounds good.”

Sabine pulled the room service menu out of a drawer at the desk and glanced over it briefly.

“Well, I'm in America, I believe I shall have a hamburger. How does that sound?”

“Get me one as well, please. With all the fixings and fries.”

As Sabine called down their order, Tony took a moment in the bathroom. After taking care of business and washing his hands, he stared at himself in the mirror. He was only distantly a Malfoy. His grandmother, his mother's mother, met his grandfather when he was on holiday in Paris. They had a whirlwind romance and she returned to England with him. They had three children: Clive, Clayton, and his mother Claire.

He knew from stories that Grandmother Geraldine hated the English schooling system. When her children were old enough, they attended Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts.

As proud as Geraldine was of her heritage, she was also determined to be a proper English wife for her husband. A lot of family stories that Tony's mother should have learned were skipped over. In turn, Tony didn't learn them either. 

He briefly wondered if his cousins knew more. 

Shaking off those thoughts, he heading back into the lounge. Sabine was waiting for him, her feet curled up under her.

“It should be about ten more minutes. Should we wait until it gets here to continue?”

“It might be best,” he agreed. “If you don't want to be interrupted.”

She nodded in agreement. “Innocuous topics then. How is your father?”

He snorted. “Senior is not an innocuous topic. Last I heard he was wooing a new wife.”

“Another one? My, he gets around.”

“Tell me about it. I haven't even met my last three stepmothers.”

“Would you really want to?” Sabine asked with a knowing tilt to her eyebrows.

“Of course not.” he paused for a second. “How about your husband, the kids? Have any grandbabies yet?”

Sabine was well into ranting about her youngest son's recent romantic exploits when their room service arrived. Tony reached the door first and opened it wide so he was hidden behind it while Sabine tipped the waiter after he set their plates on the table.

They sat and arranged themselves, beginning to eat to take the edge off their hunger before speaking again.

“Now,” Sabine stated once she was half done with her burger. “The war in England?”

Tony sighed and stared down at his fries while he thought. “Voldemort appeared out of nowhere in the late 80's. Clearly a pseudonym, but as far as I know, no one knows his real name. He must have had some connection to Hogwarts, since he attracted a lot of followers from the Slytherin house. The other houses as well, but Slytherin has always had a spotty reputation.” He paused and looked up at Sabine. She nodded with a smile and he continued.

“For reasons I don't know, he began to target two particular families, the Potters and the Longbottoms. He killed the older Potters on October 31, 1991. He was also killed, leaving the Potter infant as the only survivor. Shortly after Voldemort's death, the Longbottoms were tortured into insanity.

“Fast forward a few years, young Harry Potter of The Boy Who Lived fame started at Hogwarts. I've heard rumors of odd things happening, but nothing concrete. Then last year Harry was kidnapped during the final round of the TriWizard Tournament, which was ridiculous by the way, he is a child. Again, no details, but somehow Voldemort was resurrected and is now back to his old tricks. Death Eaters, stupid name, are raiding and attacking various wizard and mundane families. That's all I know.”

Sabine nodded. “A nice summary. What you may not know is that Abraxas Malfoy was one of Voldemort's staunchest supporters back in the seventies and eighties. When Abraxas passed away from Dragon Pox, Lucius stepped up to the plate, took the mark, and has been financially and politically supporting Voldemort since.”

“Damn,” Tony swore softly. “They aren't listening to you about staying out of it?”

She snorted. “The Malfoys in England have been largely ignoring the rest of us for centuries. They've managed to convince the British Wizarding World that they are the main branch and that right now Lucius is the head.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “It doesn't make the government look all that smart, that they can't see all the work you do on the continent.”

“This,” Sabine said pointedly, “is not about the British magical government.” She took another bite of her hamburger and chewed thoughtfully. After swallowing, she pulled a letter out of her pocketbook. “I received this letter in November. Go ahead and read it.”

Tony reached for the letter and carefully unfolded it. Absently noting the blotches of ink, he read while he finished his meal.

_Dear Madame Matriarch,_

__

_I find myself in dire straits with no one to turn to. The animosity between the followers of the Dark Lord and those of the “Light” is growing every day. Hogwarts itself has an observer from the Ministry, something that I'm fairly positive has never happened before. While she claims she is here to be sure that all the professors and students are working to the best of their abilities, she is also doing what she can to stop the rumors of the Dark Lord's return._  
_Madame Matriarch, I do not wish for the Dark Lord's world. My father is already planning for me to take the mark shortly after my sixteenth birthday. Before leaving for school this summer, he made remarks about how I will bring honor and prestige to the Malfoy name. Not once did he ask what I wanted._  
_I do not want the mark._  
_I do not want to kill innocent people in the name of a psychopath._  
_I want to be able to make my own choices._  
_A month ago, I contacted my mother's cousin, the head of her family, Sirius Black. He has rebuffed me and informed me that by his decree no one with Black blood will ever be permitted to aid me._  
_I don't know who else to turn to. I realize we are not close, all we really share at this point is our surname, but I need help. Please._  
_My time is running out, at least one of the other students is providing daily reports about the rest of us._  
_I will do almost anything to avoid the future my father has planned for me._  
_Please._  
_Yours,  
_Draco Malfoy__

_____ _

_____ _

Tony took a second to wipe his hands clean, then glanced through the letter one more time. “Do you think he's being honest?”

Sabine leaned forward, tapping the letter herself. “I think this is the most honest Draco Malfoy has ever been.”

Nodding, Tony stacked his empty plates with Sabine’s and thought on the letter. “When is his birthday?”

“June 5th, he'll be sixteen and shortly after that he'll be home for summer break.” Throwing her napkin on top of the plates, she stood and moved back to the sofa and chair they had sat in earlier. “If my suspicions are correct, Lucius will have his son marked before the end of June.”

“That doesn't give us a lot of time.”

“No, it really doesn't.”

“So what's your plan? How do I fit in?”

She pursed her lips, looking nervous for the first time Tony could remember. “I have tentative plans to get him to a temporary safe location once the Hogwarts Express arrives at King's Cross. I believe a portkey will work, all he'll have to do is get a hold of his trunk and slip out of sight.”

Tipping his head back, Tony thought for a moment. “Should work, it might be a magical train, but it's still a train. Has doors on both sides. If you could get him a charm or something to shrink his trunk, he could keep it with him and save himself a trip.”

Sabine smiled, “That's a great idea.”

“How have you been contacting him?”

The Malfoy Matriarch looked down in shame for a second. “I haven't been. I sent a response, an old family newsletter with some changes that he should spot. I didn't want to attract any undue attention. At almost sixteen he's within his rights to get the letter delivered to him.”

“Hey,” Tony said, leaning forward to tap the back of her hand. “I'm not judging. I'm just trying to figure out the best way to let him know what we're planning.”

Taking a shuddering breath, she nodded. “Running the family is easy.” she commented idly. “Invest the money, be sure everyone is safe and happy, mediate disagreements, meet suitors. All of that, so easy. Trying to save one little boy from the people who should put him on a pedestal. That is very hard.”

Nodding, Tony stood up to pace. “What can you tell me about them?”

“Lucius is a snob, plain and simple. Believes in blood purity, hates muggles, hates poor people. Honestly, he probably hates everything. I believe he sees Voldemort as a way to set himself up higher in society. As the right hand of the Dark Lord, he will be feared and revered.”

“Except for the magic thing, he sounds like Senior.”

“Oh, Merlin. Could you imagine if your father knew about magic?” 

Tony paused near the window, “I can, and I have. It's not a pretty picture.” He waved off Sabine's sympathetic look. “Tell me about Narcissa.”

“The youngest of three sisters. The oldest is Bellatrix, she is a devoted follower of Voldemort. From my contacts, I don't think she's quite sane and hasn't been for a very long time. Married, but thankfully no children. I'm not convinced she can conceive. Andromeda is the middle child, she ran away to marry a muggleborn and was stricken from the family tree. She has one child, a girl named Nymphadora.”

Tony winced at the name. “Ouch,” he muttered, before waving at the Matriarch to continue.

“Narcissa is the youngest, perhaps the most,” Sabine trailed off in thought, “overlooked. Bella was the obedient, if violent child, Andromeda was the rebel, Narcissa just was. Her marriage to Lucius was arranged, but I believe they do love each other.”

“And Draco?”

“Spoiled,” she said promptly. “Though I suppose it isn't entirely his fault. Narcissa lost at least two before him and I have no idea how many she lost after.”

Making a sympathetic noise, Tony paused in his pacing to stop. “You don't think she'll defy her husband to save her son?”

Sabine shrugged. “I want to say yes, but the last time I saw her she seemed... diluted. Less. The trials after Voldemort's first defeat were hard on everyone. Now I don't know if she sees a way out.”

“So she can't be told anything until after Draco is safe.”

“If then,” Sabine agreed.

“Alright, we've an exit plan for him. What are you going to do with him then?”

The Matriarch fidgeted with the hem of her sweater for a moment.

“I want him to stay with you.”

It was a good thing Tony's pacing had brought him back to the sofa, or else he would have fallen to the floor in his shock.


	7. Surprise! It's a Boy!

“I'm sorry, I momentarily lost my hearing. What did you say?”

“Tony,” Sabine rose from her seat and knelt down in front of him. “I want Draco to stay with you.”

“But, no. He can't. I'm not good with children.” Sputtered the agent.

“Lucky for you, he's more of an angsty teenager these days. All he needs is a safe place to stay and to continue his education. Someone to look after him.”

“Sabine, why me?”

Taking pity on his wide eyed look of panic, she moved to sit on the sofa beside him and took one of his hands between her own.

“We Malfoys are a rather overbearing lot. Do you know that right now there are at least two Malfoy families on every continent excluding Antarctica?”

Tony numbly shook his head, his hand tensing sporadically between hers.

“Of all of those families, you, and only you, live almost entirely in the muggle world.”

“That can't be right,” he argued, “Clive and Clayton have almost nothing to do with magic.”

“Ah,” she corrected carefully. “Nothing to do with British magic. They are heavily involved in French affairs.” She swallowed and glanced away for a second. “I cannot allow Draco to be completely cut off from either the family or magic. The few squib lines would be happy to take him in, I'm sure, but Draco is not used to being without magic, and they could not protect him. I could send him to family friends, distant enough that no one will see the connection, but still with magic. But what's to ensure that they put Draco's safety above their own?”

Tony continued to gape at her.

“I don't,” she paused and started again. “Tony, I don't want to force you to do this. If you really don't want Draco here, it'll be ok, you'll help me think of someone else. But you are my first choice.”

“I don't know anything about taking care of another human,” he whined.

“It's pretty easy. Give them a bed, food on a routine basis, and something to keep them occupied during the day. Teenagers especially need a lot of food.” She patted his hand, “You don't need to decide now. We have until June”

“Yes,” Tony said shallowly, “But the sooner we have a plan the better.” He closed his eyes. “If I agree, I'll have to move. I only have a one bedroom apartment.”

“We'll pay for it.” Sabine reassured quickly. “You're helping family, so in this, we return the help.”

“How will it be explained?”

“I was thinking of hiding in plain sight.” 

Pulling his hand back, Tony quirked an eyebrow at her.

“We shouldn’t completely hide him. Your friends and coworkers will notice that something is different. Why not give them an abbreviated truth. A cousin from England is in a bit of a bad spot, fighting with his parents, and asked if he could stay with you for a while, until things calm down.”

“Might work,” her mumbled to himself, deep in thought. “Is there anyone I would be allowed to tell the truth?”

Sabine bit her lip before replying. “I want to say no, but that isn't fair to you. I would prefer if very few people know about this. Perhaps one or two who can help you?”

A slow nod in reply before he spoke again. “I've a friend in the FBI, I think she would be able to help me get all the documentation sorted out and help Draco adjust. My boss. He's good with kids and may like the challenge.”

“They sound like good choices, leave me their names and I'll do a bit of searching on my end. I'll let you know in a couple days what I think.”

Tony said thoughtfully, “I really think I need to get Penelope in on this, she's far better adjusted than I am.”

“I'll have my people look into her immediately. What else do you think you'll need? A house elf?”

Tony blinked, surprised. “I hadn't even considered...” he trailed off.

“You're strong enough to support a bond with one, goodness knows we have plenty around the Manoir. Let me give you one to help.”

“You know, I'm not going to turn that down. I'll have to work out a deal with them though, certain things they just won't be able to do.”

“Hm, yes, you'll be living around muggles.” she nodded. “I think I know who to send. I'll talk to her when I get back home.”

Tony lent forward, resting his elbows on his knees and turned his head to Sabine. “Putting all that aside, how are you going to get Draco here?”

“The tentative plan is to portkey him out of King's Cross and to a small vacation home in Wales. There he'll be met by someone who will check him and his belongings for tracking spells. He'll be given an international portkey to the Manoir. Then I'll fill him in on the plans, give him a couple days to recoup, and he'll take a plane to here. You'll pick him up at the airport and that part will be done.”

“Then all I have to do is keep him under the radar.” he tapped his foot, thinking. “He can't be a Malfoy.”

“No?” Sabine was clearly surprised.

“No, Malfoy may be a name mostly known in the Wizarding world, and that means that 'ol Voldemort is going to have his goons keeping an ear to the ground for it. He may deny it, but I'm sure he has connections in the mundane world, both in Europe and here.”

“True,” the Matriarch said slowly. “He wants converts, so he's probably been nurturing those connections for years. So how do we hide Draco?”

“Send him as a Paddington. That'll add to the cover that he's my cousin without bringing up any connection to the magical world.”

“So you'll do it? You'll take Draco in?”

“Yeah, I will.” Tony said, rising to his feet. “I have a lot of planning to do and I'll have to talk to my boss. So, I'll see myself out and get in touch with you later, alright?”

“Yes, it sounds wonderful.” Sabine rose and embraced Tony for a long moment. “I am sorry that it was not just a friendly visit.”

“Of course it was a friendly visit!” Tony protested. “It was just a friendly visit that had a side of business. You were right earlier, Sabine.”

“Right about what?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Malfoys are always there for each other.” With one last smile, he apparated to the alley near his apartment and headed home. He had plans to make.

*****

 

Once in his apartment, Tony paced in front of his piano, thinking of all he had learned. Taking in Draco was going to require big changes, not just in his personal life, but at work. There was no way he would be able to work the insane hours and keep track of a teenager. Best to head over and talk to Gibbs, let him have the heads up.

The drive to Gibbs' house was short, he lucked out and missed most of the traffic. Pulling up in the driveway, he sat as the car idled, wondering if he could really pull off raising a child. Even one that came mostly baked.

Turning the engine off, he stepped out of the car and headed into the house. Making his way downstairs, he took a seat on the bottom step to watch his friend and boss work on the current boat.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs greeted.

“Boss,” he returned.

The older agent continued sanding for several minutes before sighing and tossing the block to his workbench. He grabbed a couple mason jars and poured a generous amount of bourbon in them. Handing one to Tony, he settled onto a sawhorse.

“How did the meeting go?”

“The meeting wasn't the problem,” Tony confessed, staring at his glass.

“Tony?” Gibbs asked, concern evident in his voice. “What happened?”

The other man licked his lips and looked up at his boss. “You know I got family in England, right?”

Gibbs nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

“Right, these are cousins of cousins. My mom's cousin or something like that. Anyway, one of them, Draco,” he paused as Gibbs quirked an eyebrow at the name. “I know right? Poor kid. He's been having a hell of a time with his folks. I didn't get all the details, but something about his dad wanting him to go into the family business and Draco refusing. The kid's away at boarding school and he's refused to return home for all holidays, barely writes. His teachers are worried about him, his mother is worried.”

“He's hanging out with a bad crowd?”

“From the sounds of it, but no one knows if it's because of the issues with his father or causing the issues with his father.”

“So what's your role?”

Taking another sip, Tony sighed. “They went to my grandfather, who is Draco's father's uncle. Or something. Grandfather sent his lawyers to me because they're hoping if they get Draco away from his father and whatever influences at the school he might be facing.”

“And to get Draco out of England, they mean to send him to you?” Gibbs asked.

“Yeah. Not sure if that was the best idea ever. We spent a lot of time talking logistics, since I'll have to move and find him a school.”

“Can you afford to move?”

“Eh,” Tony held out a hand and wiggled it in a so-so manner. “The lawyer said the family estate will help pay for a new place and I'll get a small stipend every month.”

“You sure you want to take on a kid?”

“Ah, hell Gibbs. I don't know. I want to help the family, but I don't know anything about kids. He's going to come here knowing next to nothing about American culture, go to a school that is completely different than what he's used to. Is it really going to help him?”

“If he stays and gets stuck in a bad way, that won't help him either.” Gibbs argued.

Tony raised his eyebrows and gave a slight nod, taking another sip of his drink. They sat in silence for several minutes.

“What are you going to need?” Gibbs asked, breaking the silence.

“Now? A couple early days or days off so I can house hunt. Draco won't be here until mid to late June. Beyond that, I need to start reducing my hours. I can't leave the kid alone for hours at a time. Tim and Ziva are going to have to step up to help with paperwork.”

Gibbs stared off into space thinking, before nodding. “Sounds doable. They're going to complain about the paperwork.”

Tony gave a derisive snort. “Neither of them have even begun to realize how much paperwork they're getting out of. Tim wants to be SFA someday? He needs to step up. Ziva needs to start watching what she does and says and filling out her own damn incident reports.”

“It'll get done, Tony. Any help you need, let me know. You'll have it.”

“Thanks Gibbs, it's just.” He blew out a breath. “I never wanted kids, and now I'm getting one.”

“You'll live. How old is he?”

“Fifteen, he'll be sixteen by the time he gets here.”

Gibbs laughed. “You'll be able to teach him how to drive.”

“Wow. I will. That is either going to be completely horrifying or the best thing ever. Thanks for that thought.”

“You're welcome.”

*****

  

Before heading to bed that night, Tony sent off a text to Penelope Garcia at the FBI, asking her if she was free for a lunch date. Thanks to a quick note from Sabine, both of his confidantes had been okayed for him to be open with. Penny would be first, as she would be the most helpful to him. He was holding off on telling Gibbs.

Her response included many smiley faces and exclamation points. He assumed that was a yes.

*****

  

Another day without a case meant that Tony could leave the office on time to meet Penelope for lunch. They had agreed to meet at a popular wizarding cafe that was in downtown D.C. It was a great place, had a mundane entrance and an expansion charm on the back so that magical folk could eat in peace.

By the time he arrived and gave the hostess the code word, he could see Penelope at a table, menu out while she looked over their options.

“Penny!” He greeted as he sat.

“Tony!” she returned. “I haven't been here in months, they've added three new sandwiches!”

“Yep, you should try the one with the seven spice cheese. Supposedly it's got pixie dust in it.”

“No way!” She turned to scour the menu.

It took several minutes for them to decide and order, they chatted idly about work and friends while they waited. Once Tony saw the server coming with their food, he turned to his friend.

“Any trouble getting away from the BAU?”

“Nah,” Penny answered, watching the server place their food and murmuring her thanks. “They know I have friends and meet up with them as often as I can. I told Derek that I was meeting a friend at a chic new bistro in Quantico, which is a real thing, and he looked appalled at the thought.” She spread her napkin on her lap, “The rest are on paperwork, Strauss ordered us on a week downtime, unless something horrific happens. Lots of paperwork to get caught up on.”

“I know that feeling,” Tony agreed, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“But I know, Tony, my lovely, that you did not ask me here to talk about FBI paperwork. What's up?”

“We'll need a bit more privacy,” he muttered, pulling out his wand and putting up a shield.

Penelope's eyes widened and before he could say anything, her wand was out and she added her own privacy spell. Then he felt her cast another spell and cocked his head at her in confusion.

“Nifty new spell,” she explained, “it actually blurs your mouth so no one can try to read your lips.”

“Ok, that's pretty cool. Teach it to me?”

“Later. What's up?” she asked.

“The Malfoy Matriarch was here yesterday.”

“What? I didn't know she left France!”

“Rarely, but she does. Cousin Draco has asked for help to avoid the Dark Mark.”

“Really?” Penelope's eyes were wide in surprise. “What does that have to do with you?” 

“She wants him to come live with me as a Paddington.”

“Could work, not many Death Eaters will think to look for him in mundane D.C.” 

“That's the hope at least.”

“What do you need from me?”

“Help?”

She laughed. “I guessed that, help with what?”

“He's going to need papers, I have no idea how wizards in England go about being British citizens. Do they even pay taxes?” He waved aside his question. “Identification. I'll need some advice on where to send him to school. Any ideas where I should look for a place to live? And... well, anything else. I have no idea what all I'll need.”

She nodded carefully, chewing her bite of food. “How long have we got?”

“Mid to late June. He's going to finish the year at Hogwarts and then make a nice meandering trip to my humble abode.”

A thoughtful look accompanied by a tapping finger. “I'll start looking and let you know. Should I just call?”

“Yeah, told Gibbs the other day about the soon to be addition.”

“But he doesn't know about the magic part.”

Tony shrugged. “As far as I know he doesn't, but he tends to know things I don't expect him to.”

“If you don't mind, I'll look into that too.”

“Thanks Penny, you're the best.”

“Don't you forget it buster, I expect many thanks in the form of movie nights and unnamed favors.”

“Anything for you, my wonderful technical goddess.”

A broad grin was his response.

They spent the rest of their lunch going over the details of Draco's upcoming move.


	8. Meanwhile, Back at Hogwarts

The weeks since reaching out towards the Malfoy Matriarch stretched on uncomfortably. While his classmates waited impatiently for Christmas break, Draco bit down on his fear. The only thing keeping him from true panic was the outdated newsletter Sabine had sent him.

Dated for September, it wasn't quite right.

Random letters from the text were missing. It took him almost a week before he realized that the message was in what was missing. Sabine was going to help him, but she needed time to arrange things.

Time was running short, but at the moment he had nothing to do but wait.

He focused on his studies. Without knowing his future, doing well on his OWLs would be the best thing he can do. His fervor reached Ravenclaw levels. Particularly for Defense, as Umbridge was proving to be a less than stellar professor. He had considered sending a letter to his father, but decided it would be pointless.

His father was on the Board of Governors and had Fudge in his back pocket. Clearly he knew what was going on in the school and was doing nothing to stop it.

Instead, Draco had heard rumors of a student run Defense course. He felt safe in assuming that Potter was in the middle of it, though he no longer felt the burning need to know for sure. All he felt was a vague bitterness. The rest of the school was invited to participate, but no one in Slytherin was. 

Or, he mused quietly, if any Slytherin was, they were being especially tight lipped about it. Which was clearly the only way to go about it.

Luckily, none of his friends noticed or commented on his distraction. The same worries swirled in their heads, though perhaps not for the same reasons.

Would they be Death Eaters? Would they be good Death Eaters? What can they do to secure their position with the Dark Lord? Would they make their parents proud? What will happen to them over the summer? Over Christmas?

The newsletter became his talisman.

Thinking about the upcoming Christmas break, he shuddered. His mother had been understanding about his desire to remain at the school to study. She may have suspected he was up to something else, but at no point did she bring it up. She just accepted it and wished him the best. His father, on the other hand, had not only sent an angry letter berating him for shirking his duty, but had also set his god father on him.

That conversation had gone poorly. Severus was brilliant and strong in a great many subjects, but trying to get a teenage boy to admit to anything was not high on his list of accomplishments. Perhaps it was because of who Draco's father was and his connection to the Dark Lord.

By the end of their meeting, Severus had called him just about every name in the book and then sent him back to the dungeons, claiming he didn't want to see Draco again until he'd come to his senses.

As that had yet to happen, Draco kept a low profile.

His friends helped to cover for him, even though they didn't know the cause of the rift between their head of house and his godson. 

He would miss them when he left. He was terrified staying would drag many of them to the Dark Lord's side. 

Perhaps he was a coward, running away from the fight instead of staying. But what could he do? Neither side would fully trust him.

What he didn't know was that his struggle was not going unnoticed.

*****

 

It was a Friday night, a rare night off for the majority of the teaching staff. Gathered together in Professor Minerva McGonagall's rooms were Minerva herself, Irma Pince, Poppy Pomfrey, and Pomona Sprout.

Their various schedules usually only allowed for a night off together once a month. At that time, they gathered and had a nice evening of tea and gossip.

Minerva was refreshing their teas while Irma ranted about the third year Care of Magical Creatures students.

“I realize he's doing his best, but sending the children to research the breeding habits of a mostly unknown species is ridiculous. Especially without any background, only two of the whole group knew what nidicolous meant!”

Poppy sighed as she stirred some sugar into her tea. “He means well, goodness knows he's always had a way with the animals. He just forgets that not everyone has that gift.”

“Yes, well,” Irma huffed. “Poking their fingers and noses into the nests of brooding magical creatures seems less than ideal.”

“You're right,” Minerva said cutting short another rant. “I'll speak to Hagrid in the morning.”

A regal nod from the librarian and the quartet settled in to enjoy their tea in silence.

“Are we secure Minnie?” Pomona asked randomly.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I set the privacy spells once you were all here. Why?”

“I'm worried about Draco.”

“Malfoy?” Poppy asked in surprise.

“Yes.” Pomona paused as she put her thoughts together. “It's nothing that I can put my finger on. He's been doing well on his work, as far as I know, none of his teachers have had complaints,” she turned a questioning eye on Minerva who shook her head in denial. “He's quiet, focused, speaks when spoken too. But he's-” she trailed off, blinking her eyes at the flames in the fireplace.

“He's distracted.” Irma added. “The past few years whenever he passed the table that Potter and his friends typically use he always had something to say, a taunt, a jibe, something. All of this year, it's been a token effort. Most of the time he passes their table and completely ignores them.”

Poppy snorted, “If it's a new tactic, it's working well. Between Dolores, his normal studies, and Draco's lack of attention, Harry is very stressed.”

“I don't think it's intentional,” Minerva sounded out slowly. “There is something bothering the boy.”

“I found a note,” Irma announced, reaching into a pocket to pull out the scrap of parchment. “A few weeks ago, I've been carrying it around. I can guess at some of the initials, but I don't understand what he was trying to do with it.” She handed the crumpled list to Minerva.

The Transfiguration teacher stared at the note for several minutes. “Severus, Albus, myself. The others, Amelia Bones? Maybe, the rest I don't know.” She passed the note over to Poppy.

“Hmm. Most are crossed off. I doubt it has any nefarious purposes, though I am curious.”

Pomona leaned over to look at the note Poppy held. “What else has he been up to Irma?”

“At the beginning of the year he was doing research on Death Eaters, quite good research though I don't know what he was seeking. He looked at foreign sources. I suggested a few special editions that had some information, but I don't know if he used them or if it helped.”

Poppy exhaled noisily and handed the list back to Irma. “What could he possibly need to look up about Death Eaters? He'll be one soon enough.”

“Maybe,” Minerva said quietly.

“Minnie? What are you thinking?” Pomona asked.

“I'm not sure,” she sighed. “It shames me to admit that I don't know any of the Slytherins as well as I should. They may not be my house, but they are my students. I hope he's gone to Severus with any concerns he may have.”

“He's on the list to stay over Christmas,” Poppy informed the group.

“Now that's a surprise, I think we'll have to keep an eye on him.”

The others nodded in agreement and moved on to other topics.

*****

 

The first day of Christmas break arrived with the typical barely controlled chaos that Minerva had become accustomed to. She was always grateful that all she had to do was get the children to the train. Sorting out families occurred at the train station and she preferred to stay away from it.

The train was gone, along with the majority of the school. Looking out from the head table across the Great Hall, Minerva took a mental count of how many were left.

For the first time, Harry Potter had left the school, although she wished the circumstances were better. Poor Arthur being attacked by that damnable snake. She gave herself a mental shake and went back to looking at the students. Ron and Ginny Weasley had left with Harry, leaving only three Gryffindors for the holidays. All three were seventh years, quietly panicking about their NEWTs.

There were no Hufflepuffs. Even those who would prefer not to go home managed to get an invitation to someone else's home. That was something Minerva could respect.

Of the Ravenclaws, there were seven. Two seventh years, three fifth years, and two others who she could only assume just didn't want to go home.

For the Slytherins, she cast her eye over that table. Four. Three seventh years and Draco Malfoy. She watched as he spent more time playing with his food than eating it.

Yes, something was definitely wrong with the boy.

She turned her attention to the Slytherin Head of House, Severus Snape. Though he sat on the other end of the table from her, she could see how... tired he looked. He was paler than normal, his face gaunt, eyes were bloodshot. No, things were not right in Slytherin house.

It was time to do her duty as Deputy Headmistress and meet with Severus. Tonight.

She continued to watch the students as the meal went on. Slowly, the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors started the mix and mingle. Neither group approached the Slytherin table and no one from the Slytherin table went to theirs.

It was the one area that she felt she failed at as a teacher. Getting her students to see past the petty bickering, posturing, and bigotry of the four houses. Too many clung to those beliefs even after they left the school, and it did more harm than good.

Even after all her years of teaching, she had no idea how to bridge the gap. The rise of Voldemort and the war he brought certainly did none of them any favors.

*****

 

Once the children were sent back to their dorms, Minerva headed down towards Severus' quarters. Despite her sense of urgency, she did her best to not project an air of haste. It would do her reputation no good. 

Arriving at her destination, she took a second to straighten her robes and remind herself of her mission. Once ready, she rapped on the door with her knuckles. 

The door opened not long after, Severus looking out tiredly.

“Minerva? Has something happened?” he asked through the narrow crack, holding the door barely open.

“Perhaps,” she informed him. “Let me in.”

He blinked at her, exhaustion evident on his face. “I... yes, please. Come in.” he stepped back and held the door open wider, gesturing for the older woman to join him. “Tea? Or perhaps a bit of scotch?”

“The scotch please,” Minerva requested, settling on a sofa. “I feel like we're both going to need it.”

Handing her a glass, Severus settled across from her in an old armchair. “What's happened?” Fear and worry were evident in his voice.

She took a sip as she considered how to answer that question. “Nothing yet, lad.”

“Then why,” he trailed off, taking his own sip to steel his courage.

“We've always been honest with each other behind closed doors. Our rivalry is an act more often than not. You know I would never poke my nose in your house business, but myself and a few others are worried.”

“About?” he asked cautiously.

“Mr. Malfoy.” she stated plainly.

“Draco?” Severus repeated, leaning back in his chair before quietly admitting. “As am I.” 

“What's happening, Severus?”

He sighed, one that sounded as if it came from the depths of his soul. “Two of my snakes were marked this past summer.”

“What?” Minerva was clearly startled at the thought.

“Yes. A sixth year and a seventh year. The sixth year has been assigned a recruitment task. She is doing... admirably.” he scowled into his glass at the thought. “The seventh year is to keep his head down and his grades up. If he manages halfway decent NEWTs, he'll be fast tracked into the Ministry.”

Minerva swallowed, trying to clear her sudden dry throat. “He's going after students already?”

“Yes, and I can't do a damn thing about it.” He rose and paced the floor, glaring at it as if it was at fault. “If I warn them against aligning with that monster he'll know of my duplicity. If I allow it to happen without a word, those poor children,” he stopped to look at Minerva. “I don't know what to do.”

“As much as I hate to say it,” she said slowly, almost tasting each word as they passed her lips. “I don't think you can do anything. Once they're sixteen, they make their own choices.”

He scowled again. “How much of a choice is it when death is on the line?”

“Severus-” she started before he cut her off.

“At least when I took the mark, I did it for my own reasons, petty and childish they may have been. No one forced the mark on me by threatening my family or friends.”

Neither mentioned that at that point, Severus had precious little of either.

“I can't stop them, Minnie. All I can do is watch.” 

She had never heard him sound so defeated before. “Oh, Severus.” there were no words of comfort to offer, no spell to end the pain he was clearly in. All they could do now, was move forward, as difficult as that may be. “What of Draco?” she asked quietly.

Returning to his seat, Severus stared into the fire. “I don't know. He's been distant since school started this year, perhaps a bit more over the summer. Although I was quite busy and didn't see him as often as I have in the past. His request to stay over the holidays was a surprise. Neither of his parents were pleased, for different reasons.”

“What did he tell them?”

“That he wanted to have more time to study for his OWLs. Not an unrealistic claim, though surprising. Draco has always enjoyed being home for holidays that involve presents.”

Minerva smiled slightly. “Do you think that's the real reason?”

He shrugged, “I have no reason to think otherwise. He studies, either in the common room or the library, eats in the Great Hall, goes to classes, plays quidditch. That's it.”

“And he hasn't said anything to you?”

“No.” The potions professor had a look of shame briefly pass over his face. “I met with him once about it. For the first time in his damnable life he was able to keep me out of his mind. I have no idea what's going on.”

“You've spoken to his friends.” her words were less a question than a statement.

“They have no idea either. It isn't as if he's isolating himself, more that he's a half step off from everything around him.”

Minerva sat in silence, watching her friend glare at the flames in the fireplace. She wondered if it would be smart to mention the list that Irma found. Deep down she knew that Severus' knowledge of that would be detrimental to both himself and Draco. It was several minutes before she wet her lips and spoke again.

“All we can do, Severus, is keep an eye on them and hope they'll do what's right.”

His response was a snort and something that sounded like “stupid teenagers.”


End file.
